


Let This Road Be Mine

by AGL03



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Anastasia AU, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, gender swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5725738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGL03/pseuds/AGL03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz has no idea who he is or where he came from.  An old pocket watch he'd been found with his only clue.  Jemma Simmons has been researching the lore of the lost prince for years, eager to collect on the reward offered by his beloved uncle.   When their journey began they never imagined they would find themselves fighting a curse or falling in love.  Fitzsimmons Anastasia AU...with a twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thank you to TheLateNightStoryteller for betaing this and chatting it out with me!

Chapter 1: Journey to the Past 

Young Fitz, sat quietly as he packed his few meager belongings into his knap sack. Preparing to leave the only home he could remember once and for all. Though he would never call the aged and dilapidated building home. It had merely been a roof over his head as he tried to piece together the puzzle that was his life. 

“Fitz!” Victoria Hand scolded, making the young man jump. “Are you still packing? You were supposed to be out of here an hour ago.” Madame Victoria Hand was in charge of the Children’s Home Fitz had lived in since he’d been found wandering, alone, soaking wet, in Edinburgh’s main square with no idea where he had come from or who and where his own family was. His name, or what he though was at least part his name coming to him days later. 

“I’m almost done Mrs. Hand,” He said obediently, shoving a tattered notebook, containing every bit of his precious research, and closing the sack. 

She scowled down at him. “Always with your nose in a book, looking for your family, when will you accept that they didn’t want you, that they threw you away and move on.”   
Fitz felt his chest constrict, despite her telling him this for the better part of a decade it still hurt to hear. He knew somewhere, someone loved him, missed him, and was even looking for him as much as he was for them. Hand paid no heed and continued to rant on “And you show up here like the King himself, expecting the finer things in life, and tearing apart anything you could get your grimy little hands on. And when you weren’t tearing things apart you were at the library, looking for clues on your family.” 

“But I do have a clue!” Fitz insisted, and not for the first time, pulled out a worn pocket watch. It was gold and clearly crafted by a master, Mrs. Hand having tried to get him to sell it a number of times, and every time he refused. Never mind he could never get the bloody thing to open, but the engraving on it always gave him a spark of hope. ‘Together in Paris’ etched into the gold. 

She rolled her eyes and guided him down the hall and out the door. “You have been nothing but a thorn in my side, and I will be glad to be rid of you.”   
“Yes Mrs. Hand,” he agreed, his impossibly blue eyes meeting hers and her gaze softened slightly. “I spoke with Mr. Sitwell down at the factory, he has agreed to take you on. It’s located by the docks and he is expecting you by sundown.” 

“Yes Mrs. Hand,” He responded obediently looking out the gates to the world beyond, once again being sent off on his own. Her hand fell to his shoulder, “Work hard and you can have a nice life Fitz, but please forget about finding your family, it will only cause heartache.” 

Fitz pulled away and wrapped his coat around him tightly, “Thank you for everything, I know I’ve been trouble. But I appreciate you putting up with me none the less.” A real smile broke the mask she normally wore and he walked away. “Be safe,” Mrs. Hand whispered as he disappeared into the crowded square. 

Fitz walked through the congested streets, coming to a familiar fork in the road, this point representing the farthest he’d ever been from the home. He looked down towards the docks, the smoke and haze from the factories rising into the skies, as if representing the gloom Fitz felt about the prospect of a life there. To the right he could see the sun’s rays peeking through the clouds, casting their golden rays on the now abandoned castle. Since the fall of the royal family it had been vacated, picked clean by looters, empty as the clans formed a new government to act in the monarchy’s place. He’d always wanted to go into the castle. The craftsmanship of his watch was clearly meant for someone with status, and some of the symbology was similar to the crests of the Royal Families. 

He was broken from his thoughts as someone crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. Fitz crumbled a curse, trying to pull himself up, a burly man bearing down on him. “You wretch,” He said the stench of alcohol reeking from him. 

“I’m sorry,” Fitz apologized trying to scoot away, the man only advancing. 

“You’ll need to pay for that,” He said gesturing to a clearly old and set in stain on his once fine coat. 

“I don’t have any money,” Fitz said quickly now finding he’d backed himself against the wall, the other passers by paying no heed to his situation. The stranger sneered revealing yellow and rotting teeth, “I don’t know, I bet you have some item of value that will make things right, just turn out your pockets and let me see.” 

Fitz panicked, the only thing remotely of value he had was his watch, his only link to the past. “I don’t-“ he started, the man grabbing him by his shirt and pushing him harshly into the wall. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a deep voice growled. Despite the fact it was quiet Fitz felt he would have been less threatening had its owner screamed it. His attacker’s eyes went wide and turned to see who had interfered. He was clearly afraid but refused to let go of his prey. “This is none of your business, kid ran into me, he must pay the toll-” 

Fitz finally got a good look at the new arrival, a hulk of a man that towered over him. He wore plain working clothes, but they were covered in dirt and grease…Fitz assumed a factory worker. A big, strong, angry, factory worker. His apparent savior fixed the man with a glare and cracked his knuckles loudly, the simple unsaid threat finally enough for the man to release his hold and send him back down to the ground once more. The man scurried away without another word. 

“You all right there Turbo, you took quite a hit.” 

Fitz looked up to see easily the largest man he’d ever seen now leaning over to help him up. And for the first time in ages he struggled to form words. “Thanks,” Fitz finally managed to get out taking the hand. The man pulled him up as if he were a feather, clapping him on the back, “Gotta watch where you are going around here, this isn’t the best neighborhood.” Again Fitz nodded. 

“How about you tell me where your heading and I’ll make sure you get there without being robbed,” the man said. Fitz stepped back slightly, worried now what this stranger would want in return for his ‘kind gesture’. 

“Look Turbo, I’m not going to hurt you, my name is Mack, I’m a mechanic out to pick up some parts that are supposedly left in the castles garage…just don’t’ tell anyone I’m doing that. Place is supposed to be off limits.” 

It was Mack’s turn to want to take a step back as a pair of blue eyes studied him intently. The gaze would have made his hair stand on end, if he hand any. “Fitz,” the younger man finally said. “Believe it or not I was heading there as well, I have some…research I’m doing.” He said, evasively. 

Mack offered a smile and gestured the young man forward “Just Fitz huh, well Fitz you don’t happen to know anything about how a combustion engine works.” 

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“We’ve been through this bloody library a thousand times now Jemma,” Lance Hunter complained loudly, lounging on one of the few remaining moth eaten couches in the once opulent room. Across the room, Jemma Simmons shot him a glare from the desk she had taken as her own all those months ago when they had started this project. 

Duke Phillip Coulson, last of the monarchy, yet due it being by marriage having no claim to the now vacant throne, had set forth a reward for any information as to the fate of his beloved lost Nephew, Leopold Fitz, The terrible night Hydra’s army had attacked, their leader non other than head of the Royal Guard Grant Ward, overwhelming the castle and killing every last member of the royal family. Or so he thought. 

Jemma knew better. Her parents had been tutors to the Prince and they had lived in the castle at the time. The night Hydra had struck Jemma herself had opened a secret compartment in the wall and gotten Duke Coulson and the Young Price Leopold at the very least out of the castle. Hydra’s thugs knocking her out when she refused to tell them what way they had gone. Jemma had even known the Prince, and the Kind and Queen being generous had allowed her to sit in on a few of his lessons. They had been on their way to becoming fast friends when he disappeared. His fate unknown, his Uncle found unconscious in the village square by the subjects and smuggled from the city before Ward could find him. There had been no trace of the young prince despite exhaustive searches by both sides. 

When Jemma came too hours later, she had found an odd metal box just outside the passage door and vaguely remembered the Prince clutching to it before he was forced through. She had kept it as a remembrance ever since. That very box now sitting on top of a stack of books. 

“There is no way the kid survived,” Hunter said loudly breaking her from her thoughts. “I was here that night, Hydra was like a plague of locusts and cut down anyone that had a drop of Royal blood in them. I lost the Knight that was training me Sir Triplett, bless his soul. I heard he died trying to defend the King himself”. Like Jemma, Hunter had also been at the castle, a squire in training for the Knights of Shield, the Royal Families personal protection detail. 

Jemma finally set her book down, hospital records from around the fall open before her. “I know he most likely didn’t survive. But the Duke wants closure, so proof either way is enough to earn the reward. If anything you care about that.” She said, before turning back to her list. 

Hunter grumbled, “I can’t believe you want to waste it on an education when there are so many more, enjoyable, options out there.” 

“You are going to use it to sweep your dear Barbara off her feet, run away to some exotic far away island,” Jemma snapped back playfully. Hunter didn’t disagree, his head snapping towards the door at the sounds of approaching footsteps. Jemma snatched the box up as Hunter pulled his gun, motioning her behind one of the bookcases. Despite being empty for years the occasional looter or vagabond found their way into the castle hoping for an easy score or piece of history. 

“Library is right there Turbo, I’ll be up to get you as soon as I find what I need.” A deep voice boomed from the end of the hall. Seconds later the great wooden doors opened and a young man with curly hair and bright blue eyes peeked into the room. “No way, that little thing made that sound.” Hunter whispered into her ear. Jemma merely nodded, something eerily familiar about the young man that she couldn’t quite place her finger on it. 

The newcomer finally fully entered the room, looking around it in awe. Jemma had that expression herself nearly every time she entered, taking a few moments to picture it in all its splendor. He wandered around the area, fingers lingering on tops of the tables or a chair. “Bloody Hell,” He whispered his Scottish brogue loud and clear in the silence. 

He continued to move, going to an odd contraption that sat on a pedestal in the foyer of the room. It had been there ever since Jemma could remember, but no one knew what it did. Solidly welded no one had been able to wrench it free nor disturb the intricate series of gears and cogs. His hands ran over the machine, one of them shaking ever so slightly, finally coming to rest on the side. He rotated one of the gears, sending the machine into motion. It was beautiful, soft chimes playing an old Scottish lullaby and despite years of neglect, the gears still shimmered in the light streaming through the window. 

“You never told me it could do that!” Hunter said out loud, breaking the spell, and causing the young man to jump. His eyes feel on the gun and he slowly backed away.   
Jemma didn’t want him to stop, “Wait!” She called, too late as he turned and ran. 

The pair followed, at least needed to impress upon the young man the need of secrecy. “You scared him!” Jemma snapped. Hunter didn’t’ argue merely pushing ahead to see the kid heading into the main foyer of the castle. 

“Mack!” he shouted. 

“Great!” Hunter grumbled remembering the booming voice that had accompanied the young man. Getting a clear shot as the escapee hit the landing “Stop!” he ordered, the sound of his gun cocking echoing in the great hall. 

Jemma ran past Hunter and down the stairs, holding her hands out in front of her. “Look, we mean you no harm. You just startled us and we’re not really supposed to be here. Can you please turn and look at me at least?” 

Hands still above his head he slowly turned, chest heaving, hand that had been slightly trembling was now full on shaking. Jemma finally got a good look at him, the Royal family’s portrait right behind him. The stark blue eyes of the crown prince starting back at her two fold. “My name is Jemma Simmons, this is Lance Hunter,” Jemma said warmly unable to break away from his eyes, waving to Hunter to at least lower his gun. “What is your name?” 

“Fitz,” he said quietly, lowering his hands. 

“Fitz what?” Hunter asked his own curiosity peaked. 

Fitz shrugged, ringing his hands together. “I don’t know,” He said sheepishly. “I had an accident when I was a kid and don’t remember the first bit of my life. Fitz was the first thing that came to me after a few weeks at the Children’s Home. I came here to see if I could research some family crests, maybe see if I could find my clan.” 

Jemma’s eyes widened and she offered a brilliant smile, circling around Fitz to properly look him over. 

“Do you mind,” He said folding his arms over his chest as if trying to shield himself from her. She stopped and Hunter had to hide a laugh behind his hand. “Sorry,” She said pointing to the painting “It’s just you look an awful lot like-“ 

“Turbo” the deep voice growled, a hulk of a man that they could only assume was Mack running up the stairs, taking them three at a time before planting himself in front of his self-appointed charge. Jemma held her ground, if anything put off she’d been interrupted, while Hunter took a step back. 

“Oh, for heaven sake!” she snapped “If we wanted to kill him we would have done it by now!” 

Fitz’s eyes went wide at her words and Mack shoved him farther behind him with a growl. Jemma didn’t back down stepping around Mack and grabbing Fitz by the arm, dragging him to the painting. “You look just like him! The eyes!” 

Fitz though she had completely lost her marbles and was more than ready to leave, go find Mr. Sitwell like he was supposed to, and forget he ever had this crazy idea. “You are raving!” he said, though pausing to study the painting and the other figures there once more. Lingering on the king and queen. 

“Look, Duke Coulson is looking for his nephew. You have no idea who you are or where you’re from. Why don’t we take you to visit him, see if he can help you, you said you had something with a crest on it?” Jemma said. Fitz tore his attention away and seemed to look properly at her for the first time, something tugging in the depths of his mind. He pulled out the pocket watch, letting it dangle from its chain. Hunter let out a whistle, mentally doing the calculations on how much it would be worth in the right market. 

“It says together in Paris.” Fitz said quietly. 

“Why would you take him? Paris isn’t exactly down the street.” Mack asked looking at the two skeptically. 

“Isn’t it our duty to King and Country to restore the true heir to the throne? And it just so happens the Duke is currently residing in Paris.” Hunter said, leaving out only a few of the minor details, not wanting to have to split any reward money later. Prince or no, this kid was a dead ringer and would do the job. 

“And if you’re not Leopold, the Duke will understand it was all an honest mistake, maybe be able to identify the crest on there for you,” Jemma added tenderly. “No harm done.” 

Fitz looked her in the eyes, something about them drawing him in and felt familiar. He was desperate to find out who is family was and this was the first person who had offered to help him. Biting his lip he nodded. “All right,” he said his gaze turning to Mack, eyes silently pleading with him to come with them. Mack looked at him incredulously, only a few hours ago he had been fixing a car, and now? 

“Offer’s just for you Mate,” Hunter said looking at Mack with narrowed eyes. “I’m all the muscle this littler operation needs”. 

Mack folded his arms, having actually been content to stay in his garage until Hunter had opened his mouth. Now there was no way he was letting this kid go alone with the trigger happy Brit. “I’m going,” He said in a tone that left no room for argument, putting a possessive hand on Fitz’s shoulder for good measure. 

Hunter opened his mouth to argue, Fitz suddenly speaking up. “He goes or I don’t.” He said firmly, Fitz feeling better having someone he knew would have his back.   
“The more the merrier,” Jemma said brightly though her eyes betrayed a little trepidation. With a grand bow she gestured down the stairs “Your Highness, shall we?” 

To Be Continued-

A/N: Love to hear what everyone thinks! Also follow me on Tumblr AGL03.


	2. In the Dark of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments! Keep them coming! And again lots of love to TheLateNIghtStoryteller for betaing.

In the Dark of the Night 

Gideon Malick sat in the back of his car, the vehicle slowly rumbling down the Cobblestone streets of the Scottish capital. He hadn’t set foot in the city since the night the Royal Family fell, and the night his Master disappeared into the night with the young prince. That night was supposed to be their greatest triumph. The culmination of years of work and careful plotting, getting all the pieces just in the right place. Taking the throne, the young prince’s death the last piece of an ancient puzzle that would endow his Master with unimaginable power, and make them unstoppable. 

His car arrived the stately manor he’d kept on the outskirts of the city as he’d prepared Hydra for the assault. He was only here now because Duke Coulson had offered a reward for the fate of the beloved little prince, renewing interest in the legend. Malick’s spies seeing a spike of activity at the castle. 

His men set to work unloading his luggage while he unlocked the door, hit with a powerful, putrid smell as soon as it opened. He fought the urge to vomit and made mental note to have the caretakers killed. Proceeding into the lounge, he found that job had already been done, the elderly man lying dead on the floor, or what was left of him. The body had clearly been there for ages. 

“Took you long enough,” a voice growled from the shadows. 

Malick froze, not trusting his ears due to the long journey. 

“You have kept me waiting,” The voice growled again, this time the pale figure of Grand Ward coming into full view. His eyes were an inky black and skin had taken on a gray pallor. 

“Master,” Malick breathed falling to his knees immediately. “We thought, feared, you had been lost to us.” 

Ward stared down at him, his anger evident. He’d waited for years for his loyal followers to find him, help restore his power. “The boy,” he hissed, motioning for Malick to fetch him a drink. Malick wordlessly complied, the head of the great Hydra knowing his place in his presence. “They boy, was getting away. I found him outside the castle, separated from his Uncle in the chaos, and threw him into the mote. Did you now the boy was a weak swimmer? My host did, after all head of the Royal Guard was privy to such details.” 

Malick sat in a chair across from his Master. He had chosen Grant Ward himself to be the host for the dark creature Hydra had summoned. The once brave knight falling into the depths of darkness and leading the strike against the family he had sworn to protect. 

“However, the brat held onto my cloak, and I fell in as well, the current pulling me under and miles away. The excursion weakening me greatly.” Ward purred. “I assumed he had drowned, yet there has been an awakening, I can feel the last drops of the Royal blood calling to me once more.” 

Malick had searched for his missing master for the better part of two years. “There has been much activity at the Castle Master, which is why I have returned. Duke Coulson has offered a reward for information as to the fate of the boy.” 

Ward cocked his head in thought. His host had never gotten along very well with the Duke, the man often distrusting of him, especially when it came to the Prince. “The boy is alive,” Ward said, now closing his eyes, stretching his senses. “I want him found, have the men monitor all means out of the city. As for you and I, we’re going to Paris should our men fail me once more.” 

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Fitz stared at the train open mouthed, eyes fixed on the massive steam engine. He had only read about them in books and never seen one in person. Despite desperately wanting too. His hands practically itched to get in and start pulling it apart and see how it worked. 

“Your Grace,” Jemma said, making him jump as she placed her hands on his shoulder. She followed his line of site, a smile forming on her lips. “They are quite remarkable aren’t they? My interests lie in another field, but I still appreciate the marvel of them none the less. However, if we are to make it to Paris I can’t have you tearing our ride to bits.” 

Fitz returned her smile, “It’s beautiful, like you,” He murmured. Jemma blushed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, he hadn’t even realized what he had said. She did make note to see if the conductor would permit them up front at some point and allow him the up close look he craved. 

“Got the tickets!” Hunter said, coming up with a reluctant Mack in tow. He led the way into one of the compartments, Jemma last to enter and found that Mack had taken her customary spot next to Hunter and the window. She was about to ask if he’d move, a single look ending that thought and she settled in next to Fitz. He had pulled a tattered notebook from his only piece of luggage and was settled down with what was barely left of a pencil. 

Jemma strained to see what it was, but he had curled himself in a ball around the book so no one else could see. Jemma instead pulled out a book of her own, one of the biology texts she’d liberated from the castle’s library. 

The four sat in a comfortable silence, Fitz and Jemma with their books, Mack and Hunter sharing a newspaper they’d picked up before boarding. 

After a few hours Hunter rose, “I’m going to get a drink, anyone care to join me?” He was merely being polite, he knew Jemma didn’t really drink and was so immersed in her text he doubted she even heard the offer. A small smile crossing Hunter’s face as he found Fitz to be the same way, completely engrossed in his notebook he didn’t hear. 

“I’ll join you,” Mack said and Hunter’s heart fell. 

“Great,” He said as politely as he could muster, leaving the cabin, Jemma finally giving a small wave to indicate she at least knew he was leaving. 

Once they were gone, Jemma waited a few moments before turning to Fitz again. The curiosity of what he had been working on the last few hours gnawing at her. “What are you working on over there?” she asked trying to peer around his raised knees. 

Blue eyes peered over the rim of the book, clearly questioning if he should trust her. “It’s not much,” He said uncurling himself. “Just ideas I have and well the notes I have on my watch.” 

Curiosity peaked she moved a little closer, “Ideas about what?” 

Fitz moved away a little bit more, the wall behind him refusing to swallow him up so he could hide. He’d shown others his drawings years ago and it hadn’t ended well. The other kids had laughed, the adults that such things weren’t possible, to stop wasting his time. Jemma seemed to sense his trepidation, and pulled a notebook from the bag he’d yet to see her without. “I have some too, if you’d like to look. I mean a lot of it is biology and chemistry…Hunter is absolutely worthless to talk to about it.” 

She finally saw a spark in his eyes, and he relaxed slightly “Biology and Chemistry?” 

“I know, I’m a girl” she said and he shook his head, he hadn’t meant it like that. “My parents were teachers, actually tutored the Prince for a time, their passion rubbed off on me. Unfortunately I exhausted their personal texts and libraries, I moved onto the one at the castle a few years ago.” 

Fitz considered her, “Promise not to laugh?” 

Jemma smiled and he felt his own lips tip up at the mere sight, “Only if you can promise the same”. He nodded and they exchanged books. Within a few moments completely engrossed in each other’s work. 

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Mack and Hunter sat at the bar in the dining car, Hunter just wanting to enjoy his beer in peace. Mack holding a beer of his own and starting at him darkly. Hunter felt uneasy under the larger man’s penetrating glare wondering, not for the first time, why they had agreed to bring him along as well. 

“I don’t like you,” Mack announced, taking a long swig of his drink. 

Hunter scoffed “Well Mate, the feeling is mutual on that.” 

“I don’t trust you either,” Mack continued. “You and the girl are up to something. So let me just say this right now. You hurt Turbo in ANY way I will make your life live a living Hell.” Hunter had to resist the urge at that point to back away, fight to keep his face neutral. Their plan wouldn’t hurt the kid, not physically. He did look an awful lot like the Prince, and once they made sure he knew what to say everyone would be happy. He’d have a family, the Duke would have a nephew back, Jemma could go to whatever school that big brain of hers desired, and he would have his money. 

“I don’t want to see the kid hurt either,” Hunter finally said taking another drink. A group of men in black moving down the car, looking intently at each of the passengers catching his attention. Mack followed his gaze. As the men moved from table to table Hunter caught sight of gold pin on one of the lapels, the Squid like symbol glistening in the sunlight. The men moving on, heading back to the private cabins. 

With a curse he casually pushed away from the bar, “Bloody Hell, Hydra.” 

Mack’s eyes widened, Hydra? “I thought they were gone?” 

Hunter moved quickly, leaving his drink and a far too large bill on the bar to cover it. “I did too but we are traveling with the possible Prince they tried to kill and a lovely young lady who tends to shoot her mouth off when she’s in danger.” They needed to get back to their cabin before someone else did. 

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Both Fitz and Jemma were still engrossed in their reading when a thud from outside made them jump. To be more accurate, a lot of thuds. Someone was knocking on the door. 

“What on earth?” Jemma said carefully setting Fitz’s book down and moving to the door, picking up the massive bag at her feet. Hunter wouldn’t have bothered with knocking and just barged in. Pausing to glance over at Fitz, “Stay back.” 

Fitz was about to argue, feeling in some small part it wasn’t chivalrous to allow the Lady to investigate the strange noise outside. The door was thrown open and a bald man dressed all in black looked in. His eyes studied the pair intently. It was then Fitz caught sight of the gold pin on his chest, a sharp pain shooting through his head and causing him to gasp in pain. 

“Can I help you?” Jemma asked, adjusting her hold on her bag. 

The bald man focused on Fitz, who was pulling back under the penetrating gaze. “I’m just looking for my companions, I’m afraid I lost track of them. However, all the other cabins are full, would you mind if I sat with you until the next stop?” The way he said it, it didn’t sounds like a request. 

Without any warning Jemma brought her bag up, driving it into the strangers head where he fell to the ground in a heap. Seconds later Hunter and Mack arrived breathless. Jemma could see a few bloody cuts on Hunter’s knuckles, he had been fighting. “Sorry, one got away from us.” 

Mack shoved his way into the cabin, kneeling in front of Fitz, whose eyes were wide and staring at the pin. “You okay Turbo?” Fitz just nodded, not sure what was phasing him more. The pain in his head or the fact Jemma had just knocked a guy twice her size out with her bag. 

“What do you have in that thing?” Fitz asked pointing at it. Jemma looked affronted, “I excel at preparation, so in short anything we could possibly need on our journey. First aid kit, emergency flares, anti-venom kit, my research, reading materials, food,” she said “but what on earth was that all about, who did you hit on this time?” Directing her ire at Hunter. 

It was Hunter’s turn to look upset, grabbing their suitcases from the storage above them. “No one!” he said “Mack can vouch for me! We saw tall, bald, and scary looking shifty and decided to come check on you since your people skills leave a lot to be desired.” 

“Who is it?” Fitz asked now more confused than ever, why would anyone be paying any attention to them after all. 

Mack pointed to the pin taking the last of the bags and nudging Fitz out the door “That’s the symbol for Hydra, guess you have a better shot than you think at being this Prince if they are poking around”. 

Fitz wanted to argue but Hunter pushed by. “Right, so in that light we’re going to retire to the baggage car for the remainder of the journey should he have more friends?”

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While Fitz had been nothing but thrilled about riding the train, he had decidedly other feelings about a boat. A boat was on water. And for reason’s he never could explain the dark abyss terrified him to no end. He jumped when a gentle hand fell on his shoulder, Jemma’s concerned eyes peering at him under the cap they’d put on him. Since the encounter with Hydra they’d felt the need to guard him a little better. “You okay?” she asked. 

He wasn’t sure how to answer, his eyes still fixed on the water. She seemed to understand “Once we’re on board you won’t even notice it,” she said. She took his hand, gasping at the jolt that ran through her, leading him up the gangplank where Mack and Hunter waited. “I have a bit of a project for you anyway,” she said trying to brighten his mood. “Just a few points of your possible family history that might come up in the interview.” 

“Interview?” Fitz snapped his gaze leaving the water for the first time to look at her. “What interview? No one said anything about an interview, you said I looked like the Prince and we were just going to meet to the Duke.” At that point they had caught up with Hunter and Mack. 

“Well he is a Duke,” Jemma said “it’s not like we can just waltz in and talk with him. There are safeguards in place. His Lady at Arms-“ 

“Demonic Hell Beast,” Hunter grumbled. 

“Lady Morse,” Jemma corrected forcefully. “Just a few questions Fitz and we’ll be right as rain, really its nothing.” Hunter opened the door to their stateroom for the journey across the Channel, groaning when he realized there were only 3 beds…someone was going to be sleeping on the floor. And that someone was liable to be him as there was no way he was going to tell Mack he had to sleep on there. 

Mack didn’t even leave room for argument placing his bag on one of the beds. “What kind of question are we talking about? Kid doesn’t remember anything from the first part of his life, won’t that be enough for Lady Morse?” 

“Bobbi,” Hunter said “Don’t call her Lady Morse unless you want to lose a limb.” 

Jemma pulled an enormous book from her bag before sitting down next to Fitz. “This is the most comprehensive record of the Royal Family and Court. Most of the questions pertain to this, where you were born, where you spent summers, that kind of stuff.” 

“I don’t know any of that!” Fitz said looking at the pictures dotting the pages. She merely huffed, randomly pointing to a name on the page. “Lord Blake, served with the King in the invasion-“she started. 

“Took a nasty shot to the Netherlands if you know what I mean,” Hunter chimed in. 

“Lady Weaver, head of scientific research-“ 

“Sir Grant Ward, head of the royal guard-“ 

“Lord Garrett, served with the king in the invasion, trainer of the Royal Guard-“ 

“Lord Fury handled-“ 

“He had an eye patch, over saw the Kingdom’s security,” Fitz said absently, fingers running over the portrait. Pulling the book away from Jemma and settling back on the bed to study it himself. Mack was already napping so Hunter was able share a significant look with Jemma. Lord Fury had lost his eye just months before the fall, the record had yet to be changed to reflect it, and in fact no one outside of those in the castle had seem him with the patch. 

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Two decks below Gideon Malick settled into his own more opulent cabin, though he had to wipe the perspiration from his brow with his hanker chief. The men he had sent onto the train to look for the group that had been spotted leaving the castle had returned empty handed. Saying they saw them, even confirming the young man that traveled with them bore a startling resemblance to the Prince, but had failed to acquire him due to his traveling companions. Those were the last words they ever uttered, Ward dispatching them with a few easy swipes of his sword. 

It now fell to Malick and should he fail, he would meet the same fate. 

He opened a small case he’d brought. Looking at the vials. A powerful drug his contacts had given him, supposed to induce the victims worst nightmare, trapping them within their own minds. He just needed a chance to slip it to the boy without his guard dogs watching. 

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“First I have to memorize names and now you’re telling me I have to learn to dance?” Fitz shouted from the other side of the door. Jemma had her arms folded on the other side, crossly scowling at the wood. Hunter and Mack waiting for them up on the main deck. 

“You’re a Prince, Prince’s know how to dance,” She shot back. 

“This one doesn’t!” Fitz argued again. 

“Fitz!” 

“Do I have to wear this?” Fitz asked next. 

Jemma had to bite her lip to keep from shouting at him. “Fitz, I am wearing a dress and heels. Stop complaining and get out here so I can take a good look at you.” She could hear grumbling from the other side but the door finally opened. 

Fitz was wringing his hands together, looking unsure of himself in the light blue shirt and Navy Jacket she had brought for him. Her breath hitched in her throat, focused on his striking blue eyes, the colors of his outfit making them even brighter. Just as she’d intended. 

His own jaw was open, the complaint dying on his lips as he caught site of her. For the first time since he’d met her, her hair was down, even in soft curls that framed her face. Gone were the Trousers and tunic, in its place a simple yet elegant white dress. Delicate blue flowers embroidered into the fabric. She caught his look suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. 

“You look lovely,” He finally said. 

She rewarded him with a small smile of her own. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” He offered a regal bow, the same one she’d shown him earlier that afternoon, before taking her arm in his and escorting her up the stairs into the cool night air. 

They emerged, Mack raising an eyebrow at the sight, Hunter oblivious as he set up the record player. “Right Mate, just put your hands-” He instructed. 

“I’ve seen people dance before Hunter,” Fitz said flashing a real smile at Jemma, one that caused her to blush and tuck a small piece of hair behind her ear. One hand was gently placed on her shoulder, the other on her waist, his touch light but she could feel the small tremor that seemed to be ever present. She mirrored his pose, savoring how good it felt to be in his arms at that moment. 

Fitz counted quietly before stepping off. 

It took a matter of moments for them to fall into the rhythm of the music, the tune echoing over the waters, the stars twinkling above them. Once he’d set a comfortable pattern Fitz grew bolder, beginning to use grander movements and spins. Jemma giggling with delight as he swept her off her feet with one of the more intricate spins, lifting her in the air and gazing into her eyes. It was as if they’d been dancing like this their entire life. 

Off to the side Mack watched them with a smile “Way to go Turbo,” He said. Hunter coming up to his side. While part of him was thrilled to see this, how incredibly sweet it was, how adoringly they looked at each other forgetting there was anyone else there. The other felt his stomach clench, falling in love was not part of the plan. “I never should have let them dance.” He muttered to himself. 

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It was late into the night, Malick huddled in the corner of the dining area waiting for his prey to show up. He’d thought he see at least one of the group for dinner, yet none appeared. And learning from Kebo’s mistake he knew not to go looking for them. Not wanting to arouse suspicion. 

At nearly midnight his patience was finally rewarded, three figures coming into the hall. It was the first time Malick himself had laid eyes on them and he had to admit, the kid definitely bore a resemblance to the royal family, his eyes the glittering blue the young Prince had been famous for. 

They quickly got food, Malick noting they made a fourth plate, the boy setting it off to the side “Jemma will be hungry after her bath.” The other two merely nodded digging into their food. They paid him no heed as he nursed the scotch he’d had for the last few hours. Steeling himself he downed the drink and made his way over to the trio, making sure to put a few drunken stumbles in his steps. 

As soon as he approached both of the men rose up higher, regarding him suspiciously. Mack shifting in front of Fitz and very nearly shielding him from view. Malick stumbled into the table, nearly knocking the plates of food off. Forcing Mack and Hunter to catch him so he didn’t hit the wood face first. “Oy, easy there,” Hunter admonished heaving Malick back up. 

“Oh thank you,” Malick slurred, resuming his coarse out the door. Malick could hear them grumbling before settling back into their food. As soon as he was clear he dropped the act, looking at the empty vial in his hands, its content now in the boy’s soup. Now, for the protectors. Right on cue the crewman who was attending the area appeared, eyes glittering and greedy. Malick handed him a stack of bills, “See that those two take a nice long nap.” 

The man just smiled an oily smile, “I have just the thing.” 

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Fitz could feel his eyes growing heavy even before he finished his dinner, the warm embrace of sleep rapidly pulling him under. “Mack, Hunter let’s get back to the cabin, I’m just knackered.” He said turning his blurry eyes to his companions. The looked in a daze, as if they’d had one too many beers, yet each man had only taken a few sips of the one the waiter had brought them. 

A warm feeling was rapidly spreading through his body, as if someone was wrapping him in a blanket. “Oh, Fitz” a gentle voice said, soft hands threading through his hair. He turned to see Jemma, still in the dress from their dance standing behind him, a soft smile on her face. “Come along, let’s get you into bed.” 

Fitz didn’t resist and forgot all together about his other two companions. Her arm wrapping around his tightly and leading him out the door. Everything was a blur, as she led him down the unfamiliar corridors, murmuring affirmations that they were almost there as they walked. 

“Jem, were are we going?” he asked, realizing through the fog they were going up the stairs, their cabin was down. She just shushed him pulling him tighter to her. “Almost there, little Prince” she whispered. 

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Jemma finished braiding her hair before looking around the empty cabin with a frown. The boys had gone to fetch some food before her bath and still hadn’t returned. She had indulged herself. Savoring the warm waters, her mind replaying her dance from just hours before. The way he held her, his scent, the way her stomach fluttered when he offered a smile meant just for her. She shook herself from the memory and turned to the problem at hand, her wayward traveling companions. They should have been back by now, even with as much as those three could eat. 

Deciding she better make sure Hunter wasn’t showing Fitz the finer points of drinking, she headed out the door. The halls were empty the other passengers long since gone to bed. 

She entered the dining hall, and wasn’t too surprised to find Hunter slumped over on a table, he’d knocked over a beer when he’d passed out on the table. What did surprise her was to find Mack in the same state. “Hunter, Mack!” She snapped, realizing seconds later there was no sign of Fitz, merely a half-eaten bowl of soup. “Fitz?” She called, hoping he’d gotten up to get a napkin or visit the loo. 

Forgetting propriety she threw open the door to the men’s loo, finding it empty. Panic clutched at her heart and she ran out the room. Mack and Hunter had clearly been drugged and Fitz was missing. She skidded down the hall, hearing the distant sound of thunder. A storm had come in shortly after their dance, the crew had secured all the doors and sent all passengers below deck as a safety precaution. “Fitz!” she cried again, running up the stairwell. 

With every deck she cleared the thunder and lightning crew louder, the motion of the storm becoming more apparent. After what seemed like an eternity, she made it onto the deck the pouring rain instantly soaking her to the bone, the wind howling in her ears. “Fitz!” she tried again, again getting no response. But in a flash of lightening she saw him. An older heavy set man leading him, towards the railing. 

“No!” Jemma screamed, slipping on the deck in her rush to get to him. 

Malick caught sight of her, a cruel smile forming on his lips. “Too late little girl,” he said with a great crack of thunder so loud Jemma could feel it in her teeth. It seem to be enough to final pull Fitz out of the fog he’d been in, blinking rapidly and looking around, the waves threatening to swell up and pull him right from the deck. 

Fitz suddenly became frantic as the ship rolled, this time the wave making it over the side and catching him and the man that held him, the force pushing them towards the edge. Jemma dove her hands grabbing him while her foot connected with Malick’s face, forcing him to relinquish his grip on Fitz’s arm. She hauled Fitz back into her arms, wrapping him up best she could, watching as Malick pulled himself up, and pulling a gun from his jacket, a flash of lightning illuminating the metal. 

Jemma curled around Fitz’s sobbing form, incoherent words spilling from his mouth, ready to protect him with her last breath. 

“My master will be so pleased! Hail Hydra!” Malick cried with a maniacal laugh, cocking the gun, just as the biggest wave yet swept over the side. Jemma saw it coming, using one arm and her legs to hold onto Fitz the other the mast of the ship. Malick had nothing to grasp, the wall of water catching him full force and throwing him into the churning waters. 

Jemma didn’t’ have time to process, the storm growing worse with every passing second. “Come on Fitz,” She pleaded pulling him across the deck and into the safety of the stairwell leading below deck. She quickly bolted the doors and turned her attention to the sobbing soaked form before her. 

She wrapped him back up in her arms, stroking his head, finally able to hear what he was saying. 

“I’m cursed, I’m cursed, Maveth’s curse,” He uttered over and over. 

Jemma felt her heart break, this was her fault, she had pulled him into this in her own desperation and greed. “Fitz,” she cried shaking him forcefully “Fitz, come back to me!” She ordered, his eyes finally seeming to find focus in her eyes. More tears welled as he looked at her “He killed them, Hydra killed them all.” He said collapsing back into her arms. 

To Be Continued….


	3. Paris Holds the Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always lots of love to my amazing Beta and co conspirator TheLateNightStoryteller!

Paris Holds the Key

Ward withdrew his sword from the chest of the man before him, the man having delivered word that no only had Malick failed but had been killed in the process. At least it saved Ward the trouble of having to do it himself. 

He went to his closet, throwing open the door, pulling out his finest attire. “I guess if you want something done right you have to do it yourself,” he growled. 

Moments later he was descending the steps of the manor, his traveling cloak billowing behind him, his minions having a carriage ready and waiting for him. “I’m coming for you Leo,” He said darkly as the carriage took off as soon as he was inside. 

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Fitz tore his gaze away from the beauty of the passing scenery to look at Hunter who was nearly bouncing with excitement as their car drove into the heart of the city for the long awaited interview with the mysterious Bobbi Hunter had been going on about. Fitz had only read about the art and architecture and hoped that they would maybe find some times to explore it better. He quickly cast a glance over to Jemma and found her eyes likely mirrored his own, glittering with excitement at everything they passed.   
Unable to resist Fitz leaned over and whispered to Jemma. “We’re going to meet with Bobbi right?” Jemma gave him her full attention and nodded in affirmation. “But Hunter described her as a ‘Demonic Hell Beast’ the other day and now he looks like a kid on Christmas morning.”

Jemma let out a soft giggle that was like music to Fitz’s ears, her lips teasing his ear as she answered “They have a rather unique relationship.” Before Fitz could inquire as to just what that meant the car stopped and Hunter bounded out “We’re here!” 

Jemma followed as if nothing was wrong while Fitz and Mack shared a brief look with each other. Mack merely shrugged having long since given up trying to figure out this odd group he found himself with. Fitz paused a bit back from the door, wringing his hands nervously. 

“You’ll do great,” Jemma said suddenly appearing at his side and squeezing his hand supportively. Fitz returned the gesture before letting the hand go, though all he wanted to do was hold onto it. The door opened before he could change his mind and run back to the car, a woman about his age at the door with a bright mischievous smile on her face. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“We have an appointment with Bobbi,” Hunter said and even before he’d finished speaking the door was flung fully open and easily the tallest most intimidating woman Fitz had ever seen appeared in the door way. Her eyes fell on Hunter, a sweet smile on her lips before her hand came up and slapped him across the face with a resounding crack.

Fitz jumped, Jemma didn’t seem phased at all, and Mack chuckled in delight “I like her,” he announced.

“What was that for!?” Hunter asked rubbing his jaw.

Bobbi merely fixed him with a glare, “You know very well what that was for.”

Hunter seemed to consider this a moment before nodding “Yeah, deserved that.” Now taking her hand and kissing it “And I am truly sorry for it Love.” Fitz thought that they would be down a member of their little group in a matter of moments, but was again surprised with Bobbi accepted the gesture with a smile. “See told you, unique,” Jemma whispered in his ear. Unique didn’t even begin to cover it.

Hunter pulled back and gestured grandly at the confused Fitz standing behind him. “May I present to you the Crown Prince Leopold.” Both Bobbi and the girls gaze went to him in an instant and he wanted to shrink back behind Jemma under their penetrating gazes.

Bobbi motioned them into the parlor, Fitz standing in the center of the room, as she and the other girl circled him. What was it about women circling him like vultures? He thought bitterly. “He certainly looks like the Prince,” the young woman said.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Jemma asked having not counted on someone other than Bobbi being there. 

“Daisy,” the girl said circling Fitz again and Jemma felt something flare in her stomach. “I’m Bobbi’s Lady in training. The Duke took me in when my parents were killed a few years ago.”

If Jemma had more questions of her own she never got a chance to ask them, Bobbi taking out a book and starting her questioning with no more preamble. “Where were you born?”

“Perthshire, my family has a cottage there.” Fitz answered, quickly relieved the first one was easy. And thanks to the work he’d done with Jemma and Hunter so were the ones that followed.

“What was your horses name?”

“How do you take your tea?”

“Did you ever break a bone?” 

It went on for what felt like hours, and by the end Fitz felt his voice was hoarse and feet hurt from standing for so long. 

“Last one I promise,” Bobbi said perhaps picking up on his weariness and putting her notebook away. “And I know this one might be difficult, but indulge me. That night, during the fall, how did you escape?” 

Jemma felt her heart fall, they hadn’t prepared him for this one, and there was no way he knew what had happed. All she could do was hope that he could think on his feet. She watched as Fitz creased his brow and fiddled nervously with his pocket watch. Jemma though all hope was lost when he finally spoke softly. “There was a girl, her parents worked at the castle,” he started and Jemma’s eyes went wide, breath hitching in her chest. “She opened a hole in the wall, it was the servant’s passages….” Fitz continued his voice fading “I’m sorry, I know that sounds rather farfetched.”

Jemma didn’t hear Bobbi’s response as all she could hear was her blood rushing in her ears. Needing some air she quickly excused herself, stepping into the afternoon light and taking a few calming breaths. Fitz was him, really him, she’d found the lost Prince, and he was about to find his family.

“Oh Fitz was brilliant! I was ready to give him the crown!” Hunter said emerging from the house with a cheer. “You Jemma, are a most excellent teacher,” he praised already deciding just what he was going to do with his share of the money. Perhaps something very sparkly to properly apologize to Bobbi. “Bobbi said that the Duke is refusing to see anyone else, but there is a car show tonight and he never misses one of those so we can just happen upon him there.”

“Hunter he-” Jemma tried to say when 

“Of course he is,” Hunter said “and he’s brilliant!

Jemma moved to argue again, when Fitz burst from the door, the biggest smile on his face Jemma had seen yet. “Daisy and Bobbi are going to take us to the Louvre! There is an exhibition of Da Vinci’s early flying machines,” he said excitedly. Jemma felt a bubble of excitement, Daisy emerging seconds later her face decidedly less excited. “Well, I wanted to go shopping and to a show, he didn’t seem to think that sounded like a lovely way to spend the afternoon. At least Bobbi can show us that Bunker she knows is down there.”

Hunter’s face fell, he’d much rather go shopping and have a few teeth yanked out than anywhere near a museum with Jemma Simmons, and judging by the look on Fitz’s face he was in for a long afternoon between the two. “Wait, how does Bobbi know there is a bunker under the Louvre?”

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Despite the knowledge that weighed heavily on her head, Jemma couldn’t help but have a wonderful afternoon wandering through the exhibits. She had grabbed Fitz’s arm in excitement in the very first room and didn’t’ let go the entire tour. Excitedly talking with each other about the various exhibits and displays in a furious series of hushed whispers that no one else in the group even hoped to follow. 

Now she stood at the entrance to the gardens where the show was to be held, the guests already filing in. She had once again opted for her flower dress, the box she’d found so many years ago weighing heavily in her pocket. She rung her hands nervously and paced, Hunter fixed her with an annoyed gaze. “You know we have nothing to worry about, the kid will pull it off,” Hunter said leaning against the lamppost. 

Jemma looked up, “I know we don’t,” she said forcefully. “But it’s not because we’ve trained him so well.” Hunter now looked at her confused, “It’s him, Fitz is Leopold.” She said.

“Yes, he is and we are going-“

“I was the girl!” Jemma shouted. Hunter freezing in place with his mouth agape. “That night in the castle, I was the girl that opened the passage to get them out. That was how I found the box.” 

Hunter let it sink in running his hands over his face, “Blood Hell, we found the lost Prince, we really found him.” He paused to see the sad look in her yes, “Ah Love, you have to tell him, now before its too late.”

“It doesn’t matter, the Duke will meet him and confirm-“she said stiffly.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, tell him now,” Hunter persisted interrupted by a quiet voice.

“Tell me what?” Fitz asked approaching, Mack at his heels, the larger man looking excited for the first time since he’d been dragged on this journey. Jemma paused once again taking in how nice he looked in the suite, his eyes bright, his hands wringing again. 

Jemma smiled, smoothing out a few creases. “Just how handsome you look tonight,” She said eliciting a blush from him. Hunter shot her a look before nodding to Mack “Bobbi said the Duke will be in the tent at the center of the gardens for most of the evening. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a Demonic Hell Beast to find.” 

Mack moved to leave too, not wanting to intrude on what would be a very private moment for the young man “You’ll be fine Turbo, I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Fitz smiled gratefully, too nervous to speak as his stomach was in knots. Those knots starting to flutter as Jemma took his hand and lead him through the crowd. 

“Honestly Fitz, you have nothing to worry about,” she said.

He wished he could have her confidence, his hand starting to really shake as the approached the tent. Jemma stopped by the flap, “I’m going to announce you properly, wait here”.

“Jemma?” Fitz said stopping her before she walked away. Her own heart fluttered as she met his eyes, hope bubbling in her chest. Seeing he had her attention he continued “It’s just…I….I can’t thank you enough for everything,” he faltered. 

Jemma stomped down the bit of disappointment, “Oh Fitz,” she said running her hand along his cheek. “I….it was my pleasure,” she said faltering herself. There she stayed, eyes locked, so close he could smell her perfume, and count the freckles on her cheeks. Her fingers gave a gentle press and she pulled away, disappearing inside. Fitz pacing just outside the door, “Please, let me him remember me.”

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Jemma entered the tent summoning all of her courage, coming face to face with Daisy as the Lady in Training tended to refreshments for coming guests. She saw Jemma and flashed a wide smile. Daisy had an arranged for a small window, Bobbi out with Hunter, and Lady May, the Duke’s personal bodyguard doing a sweep of the grounds.  
“Please inform his Lordship, Duke Coulson, that I have found his nephew and wish to present him,” Jemma said loudly so her voice would carry to both the Duke and Fitz waiting outside. 

Daisy’s eyes danced as she stood aside and bowed towards the next area “Oh I’m sorry young lady, the Duke is not seeing anyone this evening.” 

“Whoever that is send them away,” a male voice called back and Jemma knew it could only come from Coulson. Daisy suddenly looking torn as he continued. “I have seen enough young men claiming to be my nephew to last me a lifetime, just let me be in peace.” 

Daisy took Jemma gently by the arm and began pulling her away “You’d better go,” she started. Jemma wasn’t stopping now wrenching her arms away and bursting in with the Duke before Daisy could say another word. 

He looked at her with a critical eyes from his seat, “Sir, please my name is Jemma Simmons I used to live at the castle-“Coulson threw up his hands rising, “Well my dear that is one that I haven’t heard yet. But it changes nothing, my nephew is gone, I need to move on, live my life.”

Jemma followed, surprised to find Daisy gone, “But you just need to see him, its him-“ She insisted, freezing as Coulson spun to look at her with blazing blue eyes that reminded her so much of Fitz’s. “Jemma, Jemma Simmons, I’ve heard of you. You and the vagabond Lance Hunter have been skulking around the castle, looking through the records, and I believe at one point were even looking for a young man to play the part.” Jemma shrank back unable to deny anything, as he continued “How much pain must I endure?”

“You must listen, its him-“Jemma pleaded as a terrifying figure suddenly appeared out of now where. The woman was dressed in all black with dark hair and eyes. Her knuckles cracking as she placed herself in front of the Duke. Jemma could only assume it was the Lady May. 

“Time to go,” May said grabbing Jemma by the arm and throwing her out.

Jemma stumbled and fell to the ground, finding herself looking at a familiar pair of shoes. Feeling sick she looked up, finding Fitz standing over her with tears shimmering in his eyes. She knew he had heard everything. “It was all a lie, from the beginning, this was all a lie, to get the reward…nothing else.”

“Fitz, no you don’t understand. Well yes, it might have started like that but-“she said pulling herself up and trying to take his hands in her own. He looked horrified and wrenched them away, taking another step back as the tears spilled over. 

“You used me, and I let you! I believed you!” he said backing ever farther away. “Haven’t you done enough, just leave me alone!”

“Fitz, please” Jemma begged once again reaching for him, only to have Mack appear, shielding Fitz from her view. “He said to leave him alone,” Mack growled. Hunter quickly pulling her back. While both knew the man would never raise a hand to her he was terrifying none the less. 

As Hunter tried to calm Mack down Jemma slipped away, looking for any sign of Fitz. Who had used Mack’s cover to slip away. Running her hands through her hair in frustration she had a plan come to her and slipped off into the shadows to wait. 

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Coulson made his way to his waiting car, seeing the door open and waiting for him, though there was no sign of the usually ever present May. He let it pass, too weary to really care. His encounter with the girl just another chip against his battered soul. When he’d announced the reward for any information on what had happened to Leo he had never imagined people could be so creative or cruel in their efforts to get the money. 

He was broken from his thoughts as a figure slid into the driver’s seat, the car lurching off in a squeal of tires. “May!” he shot “slow down!” Not that he didn’t enjoy the occasional high speed drive, tonight was not the night. However, the car didn’t slow down, nor did May answer. Which wasn’t completely out of character for his friend.   
The next turn produced more screeching tires and Coulson hitting his head on the window, “May!”

The driver now glancing back, and it definitely wasn’t Lady May. “You!” he said looking at Jemma Simmons in astonishment. He did have to give her points for being persistent. “Stop this car this instant young lady!” He ordered.

“No!” she shot back stubbornly taking another turn too fast. No, was not a word the Duke often heard. Her brown eyes met his once more “Not until you meet him! Not until you talk to him!”

Coulson scoffed, “I told you, he’s gone-“getting cut off as the car screeched to a halt in front of a hotel. Coulson made no move to get out, Jemma coming around and throwing the door open. “Just meet him!” she insisted. Coulson remained firm, staring dead ahead enjoying the growl of frustration Jemma let out. 

“Sir, I know you’ve been hurt, I know you’ve been lied to but,” as she spoke she fumbled in her pockets, pulling out a black and silver box as she sank to her knees. “Perhaps he’s been just as hurt as you have”. Coulson felt his mouth go dry as he saw the box, taking it in his hands, the metal cool against his fingers for the first time in years. “How did you,” he started. Pausing to look at her properly for the first time. “You’ll stop at nothing?” He asked with a small smile.

Jemma returned it opening the door wider, “I’m probably more stubborn that the two of you combined and believe me after a week with him that is saying something.”

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Fitz angrily wiped his tears away as he threw his few possession into his bag, refusing to take anything that Jemma or Hunter had given him. His body ached with betrayal as he chastised himself for getting so caught up in it, letting himself think that he could have his own happy ending. 

There was a knock at the door and his temper flared “Go away!” He snapped, turning to give her a piece of his mind when the figure in the door took him off guard. It was not Jemma, Hunter, or even Mack. “My Lord,” He said bowing slightly stunned.

Coulson entered the room slowly, looking him over carefully, and Fitz was just grateful he didn’t circle like the girls had. Fitz met his eyes feeling like he was five years old again under the gaze. Something achingly familiar about the man. “I am so sorry Sir, it was never my intention to deceive you. I am just trying to find out who I am, if I have a family, nothing more.”

Coulson sat, “So the money it means nothing too you?”

Fitz shook his head, to be honest he hadn’t known anything about the money until he’d heard Coulson arguing with Jemma at the party. He walked closer to Coulson, stopping as a long forgotten scent hit him, a flash of memories hitting him. “Peppermint,” he muttered to himself with a small smile.

Coulson looked down at his hands, “Yes, I use the oil on my hands it helps with an old war injury.”

He couldn’t tell if Fitz had heard him, the smile on the young man’s face growing wider, and his eyes distant. “Oh, how I loved that smell. You spilled a bottle on the rug once and the staff could never get it out. That spot forever smelled like Peppermint, like you.” Coulson felt his heart stopping, slowly rising as to no break the spell that seemed to have been cast over the boy. “How I missed you when you went away, no one else would give me supplies to tinker, or let me tear apart the carriage. I’d lay on that spot for hours, reading the books you’d brought me…from your travels.”

Fitz pulled out the pocket watch, fiddling with it, Coulson’s eyes going wide. “You came…you came here,” Fitz said looking up. “You came to Paris.”

“Where did you get that?” Coulson asked pointing to the watch. Fitz seemed to come back to himself, looking down at the cherished object, “I’ve had it as long as I can remember. I thought it might be a clue, I actually wanted to ask you about it. To see if you could tell me who the crests belonged too.”

Coulson held out his hand, silently asking for it and Fitz reverently handed it over. It was Coulson’s turn to feel the tears burning in his eyes, pulling the box Jemma had given him out. Fitz saw it and gasped. Coulson’s fingers expertly working both the watch and the box, putting the two together, the box springing open to reveal a diorama of the Scottish countryside, rolling hills, and a small gray cottage in the center. The Scottish Lullaby from the device in the library played as Fitz sank onto the settee next to Coulson. 

“It was my cottage in Perthshire, you were born there you know. I used to take you there over the summers. You loved it there, free from all the royal trappings and to do as you pleased.” Coulson said his voice thick with emotion. 

Unable to contain it anymore Fitz gave into the sobs, falling into the older man’s chest. Feeling strong arms close around him as years’ worth of memories came rushing back so fast his head was spinning. Coulson just held him, tears streaming down his own face, his search had final come to an end “Leo,” he whispered pulling the boy tighter to him.

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Jemma stood at attention, completely ignoring the briefcase full of money sitting open before her. Coulson looked at her skeptically, May at attention not far behind him. “I accept your gratitude My Lord, but I cannot take your money,” she said quietly. May’s façade breaking with the raise of an eyebrow.

“Surely, there must be something I can give you for restoring Leo to me,” Coulson said at a loss. No one had ever turned down such a sum before. 

A pained smile crossed her face, “What I desire is not yours to give, My Lord. Now if you will excuse me, I must depart if I am to catch the ferry.” 

She could feel both his and May’s gaze upon her, wanting nothing more than to shrink into the floor. “Where did you get the box?” He questioned her eyes finally meeting his once more, answering the question for him. “You were the girl,” he breathed “the one that opened the passage and allowed us to escape.”

Jemma nodded wishing the tears would go away. It was May who spoke yet, her voice soft and wizen. “You saved them that night and brought them back together again, yet you want no reward. Why change your mind?” she asked. 

Jemma offered one last bow “It was more a change of heart,” she said tucking her hair behind her ear as she slipped away. Coulson sharing a knowing look with May as the door closed.

It was everything she could do not to run, taking the stairs two at a time, and nearly crashing into the figure at the bottom. She stopped short, pulling back to apologize, the words dying on her lips as she saw Fitz standing there. Dressed in his full Royal Regalia. “Jemma,” he said his voice slightly cold.

“Leo,” she returned with a small bow. 

“Did you get your money?” he asked, despite the result still feeling the sting of betrayal. She raised herself up, “My business is concluded.” She said her voice holding the small hint of hurt and anger as well. 

Fitz didn’t know what to say, part of him wanting to take her into his arms. But before he could speak, she bowed again “I’m glad you found what you are looking for,” she said slipping away, not waiting to hear the “Thanks you,” He whispered as she slipped away.

Jemma was almost clear, clearing the main house and into the back sitting room when she paused in the door. Hunter and Mack stood, both in formal military uniforms, seemingly arguing over who got the last decorative metal to wear. Mack saw her first, and to her surprise he offered her a warm smile. “You’re making a mistake,” Mack said.  
Hunter wasn’t sure if he was more shocked that Mack had spoken to her or the words he said. Either way he couldn’t disagree. “He’s right, Love you need to-“

Jemma held up her hand not wanting to hear voiced what was running through her head over and over right now. “Thank you, both for everything. If you’re ever back in Edinburgh look me up.” The pair shared a look reminiscing of the one Coulson had shared with May just moments before. Instead she rushed forward embracing them both with a hug. “But do me a favor, take care of him, he deserves to be happy.” 

“Of course,” Hunter said as she pulled away. She pulled her bag to her tightly and offered one last watery smile before slipping off into the night.

To Be Continued….


	4. Heart Don't Fail Me Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is it! Last chapter! Thank you so much for reading. I'd love to hear what you thought in the form of comments, kudos, or even feel free to message me on Tumblr!

Heart Don’t Fail me Now

Jemma stood in line waiting her turn for the ticket counter. Her stomach was in knots and though she should be happy for Fitz she found herself miserable. With a sign she saw she was next, and she rummaged in her bag to get her fare, coming out instead with the gray cap they’d gotten to help conceal Fitz’s identity along with the pamphlet they had gotten when they arrived at the Louvre. She ran her fingers over the hat with a small smile, picturing how he had peered up at her from beneath its rim, the small shy smile that played on his lips.

It hit her then as her turn at the counter came, she loved him, he was her home, and she could not walk away from that.

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Fitz anxiously peered out from behind the long red velvet curtain into the crowds that had amassed in the ballroom. The site jogging something from his reforming memories, of nights such as these long ago. Jewels glittered against richly appointed attire as a mix of press and nobles anxiously awaited the reveal on the long lost and now found Prince.

“She’s not there,” his uncle said, Fitz jumping with a blush.

“I wasn’t- Who Uncle?“ Fitz mumbled, suddenly becoming very interested in the sash that ran across his chest. Coulson wrapped an arm around him and lead him over to a mirror, allowing the young man to look himself. He hardly recognized who started back at him.

He wore white pants with a deep, sapphire blue suit jacket. The sash that ran across his chest one from the ancient clans he was descended from, a small gold pin holding it in place the Royal Crest. And while the attire was new, it was incredibly uncomfortable, and left him longing for the soft cotton blue shirt Jemma had brought what seemed like a life time ago. It was the crown upon his head that weighed upon him heavily. It too was gold, embedded with sapphires and emeralds. Bobbi had teased that all the Fitz clan had those beautiful blue eyes and seemed intent on showing them off any chance they had. 

“A very remarkable young woman who found a simple little box,” he said, seeing the sadness flicker in his nephew’s eyes. “She’s probably already taken the money to the best school she could find,” Fitz added sadly.

Coulson sighed, running a soothing hand on Fitz’s back. “You were born into the life of glittering jewels and titles. But I wonder if this is what you really want?”  
Fitz was surprised, looking at his Uncle in disbelief. “Of course it is, I searched for so long for you, for who I am.”

“My dear Boy is it enough? You must know, she didn’t’ take the money.” Coulson said with a small smile. 

Fitz looked up, hope shimmering in his eyes. “She didn’t?”

“She didn’t.” Coulson confirmed with a smile. “Finding in you again, knowing you are safe, seeing the amazing young man you have become, has given me such great joy. But, I want you to be happy.” Fitz remained silent yet met his Uncles gaze, “Whatever you decide Leo, I’ll be happy I want you to be as well.” With that Coulson gave him a brief hug, before pulling himself together, and stepping into the ballroom to applause from the guests.

Left alone, Fitz looked in the mirror again, his thoughts turning to Jemma. He had searched so long for his family yet he didn’t feel like he was home. He had felt like he was truly home, as he’d held her in his arms and danced aboard the ship, walked hand in hand with her in the Louvre or slipped tea with her over a shared book. With one last glance back towards the ballroom, he made up his mind, and ran down the servants stairs.

His mind worked rapidly at how he could get to the train station as fast as possible. His eyes fell on the large building that held his Uncle’s car collection. “Lola will be fast enough,” he said running out the back steps.

His feet had just hit the gravel of the driveway when a large black car screeched to a halt right in front of him and blocked his path. Fitz leap back to avoid getting hit, falling hard to the ground and backing away best he could. The door opened and the man from his nightmares loomed in the door “You!” he stammered. 

“Hello, Leo” he said, reaching out and grabbing Fitz by the arm, and hauled him into the back of the car. His cry for help swallowed by his assailant’s free hand. The Prince was even fully into the car before the driver had started moving and tore off into the dead of night.

“Fitz!” Jemma screamed, running down the stairs, helpless to do anything but watch as he was pulled into the car.

“Fitz! No!” she cried again. She briefly debated running back inside, getting help from Hunter and Mack, before it crashing down there was no time for that. With every passing moment Fitz was being taken farther away. 

Unable and unwilling to waste another moment, she freed one of the horses from the antique carriage Coulson had used to make their arrival in. Part of a long held tradition of some sorts. Thanking her mother for insisting that she take riding lessons as a girl.

She spurred the horse on, forcing it into a gallop, eyes fixed on the lights of the car as it turned at the end of the long driveway.

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Fitz pressed himself as far into the door and away from the creature as he could. Ward regarding him with a smirk from the seat across from him. “You’ve grown up,” He smirked.

“Let me go!” Fitz demanded, he may have just recently learned he was a Prince, but he put every ounce of authority he had into the demand. He knew his attacker but once again his mind failed him as to just who he was, his dark eyes and hair one of the many ghosts from his past he was remembering. 

“Oh I plan on letting you go, I need to finish what I started all those years ago,” Ward said leaning in. “And once you are finally dead my revenge will be complete, your clan finally meeting its end, receiving its penance for banishing me. It took me a thousand years but I will finally have my revenge.”

Fitz was now really confused, “Who are you?” he finally asked, his hand slipping back to the door handle.

Ward smiled, holding his arms our grandly. “I have had many names, over the centuries, taken many hosts. My followers called me Maveth’s, Death. You my dear boy knew me as Grant Ward. The most honored and revered of the Royal Guard, entrusted with the greatest honor the kingdom had to offer, the personal guard of the beloved crown prince Leopold.”

It was as if someone flipped a switch in his head, the memories as they had with his uncle flooding back in the blink of an eye. Ward, had been like a big brother too him, with him ever since he could remember, yet that fateful night it had been Ward who had thrown him into the icy waters surrounded the castle. “Grant?” Fitz stammered holding his hand to his head in an attempt to block the pain.

Ward laughed, “You know he never really cared for you, my former host. He was working with Hydra all along, prepared since his youth to be my host, and to get in the perfect position to incite my revenge!”

Now unwanted tears began to well in Fitz’s eyes, the city still moving by, hundreds of happy moments with the man who had been his protector now tainted in an instant. The creature pounced, “But you, you got away that night and condemned me to a whimper of my former greatness. No more, you are going to die tonight little Leo, and there will be no one to save you this time.”

Fitz narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath “Who says I need to be saved!” he shot. As he spoke he thrust the door handle down, Ward having left it unlocked in his carelessness, and Fitz rolled out of the moving car onto one of the many bridges strew throughout the city. 

Fitz his the side of the bridge, letting out a small grunt of pain before pulling himself up, not noticing the crown had fallen off and rolled into the darkness, and starting to run the away from the car that was currently skidding to a halt, Ward leaping from the vehicle with a bloody sword, the driver dead in his fit of anger, and a scream of rage. Fitz began to run, his shoes slipping on the wet cobblestone and he found himself cursing the impracticality of his entire ensemble. 

He didn’t make it far, Ward easily closing the distance and grabbing Fitz roughly by the collar of his shirt, raising him into the air. Fitz’s hands uselessly tried to pry himself free, kicking desperately at Wards chest as he slowly made his way to the edge of the bridge and the icy waters than ran below. “Fitting,” Ward said with a devious smirk. “And now my little prince, it’s time to die.”

They were just inches from the railing when, Ward paused cocking his head to the side and peering into the darkness beyond the bridge. Fitz heard it before he saw anything, the sound of a horse galloping. The thought of why anyone would be on a horse, in the streets, this time of night barely crossing his mind before his crown came sailing through the darkness, hitting Ward right between the eyes. 

The impact did little to hurt Ward, though it did pause him long enough for the horse and its rider to burst from the darkness, Jemma Simmons tiny form using every bit of forward momentum she could muster, and leaping onto Ward taking him and Fitz to the ground hard. “Unhand him,” Jemma hissed latching onto the monster’s back, nails clawing at his face, eyes, any sensitive area Hunter had instructed her to go for should she ever be in a pinch.

To her and Fitz’s utter surprise he complied, throwing Fitz away as if he were an unwanted toy, towards the idling vehicle, stars once dancing in his eyes as he hit. Blearily he forced them open, and on the ground next to him, the bag Jemma had carried their entire journey from Scotland. Remembering the contents Fitz began to dig frantically, looking for the small item he knew to be there. Jemma let out a cry of pain and quickly drove his attention back to the threat, as Ward got the upper hand on her, rolling so he now had her pinned to the ground and was squeezing her throat tightly.

“No!” Fitz screamed, his voice breaking in anguish as he rushed towards them. 

“Run!” Jemma gasped, Ward glancing up at the Fitz who had frozen a few steps away. “Yes, run away Leo so I many finish this little meddler off once and for all. She thinks I don’t remember her, the girl that opened the secret door, that tried helped you get away.”

Again the memories came crashing back, the passage, Uncle Coulson ushering him through, his brown eyed class mate defiantly standing up to the guards. And without another moment hesitation he brought his weapon up and leveled it at Ward.

Ward didn’t let up the pressure on her throat, savoring every gasping breath she let out, and seemed amused at the antics. “Go ahead, shoot me.” He challenged even raising himself up higher to afford Fitz a clear shot at his chest.

Fitz didn’t hesitate, firing the flare gun, catching the monster full in the chest where it exploded in a shower of sparks and fire around him, the pieces miraculously missing Jemma. Ward released her and stood up in a panic, trying to brush the flames away, instead only causing them to spread more quickly across his clothes and skin.   
The flames danced in Wards eyes as he howled with rage, setting his sights on Fitz one last time. “If I die, you will die with me!” he screaming charging at Fitz, despite the flames now eating away at his body. Fitz knew he couldn’t get away, he’d fired at too close of a range to allow for that and braced himself for the oncoming attack. So focused on Ward, he didn’t feel two hands grabbing his tunic and yanking him back at the last possible second. The charging Ward running by and right over the side of the bridge into the icy waters below, the body hitting with an angry hiss followed by the nothing the silence of the night and the two lone occupants on the bridge. 

Fitz quickly rolled, Jemma lying beside him letting out a few raspy coughs between sucking in great breaths of air. Not caring they were both laying in the middle of the road, he caressed her cheek tenderly, his blue eyes meeting hers. “I thought you were going home?” he questioned.

Tears shimmered in her eyes, her own hand reciprocating his action, her thumb running along the stubble on his cheek. “I know, I just couldn’t,” she said.  
“But the-“Fitz began, Jemma fingers squeezing his face slightly.

“I couldn’t,” She said again this time more firmly. Their eyes locked as her hand slipped from his cheek and down to his chest.

“Why?” Fitz asked, his voice barely above a whisper and strained with emotion. Jemma didn’t have the words to answer him, instead content to show him, leaning in to the point where he could feel his breath upon her lips. She could feel her body tingling in anticipation, her heart pounding in her ears, his heart pounding against her hand. Shifting slightly her foot knocked into something, the sound of scraping metal shattering the moment.

Tearing their eyes away they looked down, finding the crown at her feet. Fitz sighed heavily as she picked it up. The gold and jewels shimmering in the moonlight. Slowly rising they started at it, its weight now heavy in her hands, “We need to get you back.” She whispered, moving to place it back on his head.

Fitz stopped her, taking the heirloom into his hands and studying in it intently, before looking up to meet Jemma’s eyes once more “I think I know just what to do about this.”

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The small parlor was packed with an anxious group as the guards searched the grounds of the manor for the wayward Prince. “We need to go find him,” Mack ground out from his position by the window.

Hunter rolled his eyes from his position lounging on the couch, Bobbi sitting at his side looking just as worried as Mack. “The kid can handle himself, I showed him a thing or two on the way here. Probably just went for a walk for some air. I know you lot might be use to all of…this. But he is not. He’ll be back by dessert.”

Bobbi looked to Coulson who was surprisingly just as calm as Hunter, sitting in a chair by the fireplace watching the fire in silence. 

The doors to the room briefly opened, reveling Melinda May. The Duke’s personal guard carrying the crown Fitz had been wearing and a note. The smallest of smiles playing on her lips as she handed them to Coulson. “My Lord, this was just delivered by messenger.”

Coulson look them, somehow recognizing the untidy scrawl of his nephew, it hadn’t improved much since he was a child.

Dearest Uncle,

Wish us luck! We’ll be together in Paris again soon. But Jemma and I have….

Tears and a smile crossed Coulson’s face, holding up a signed certificate from the priest at a local church. “They’ve eloped,” He announced with a wide smile, everyone in the room breaking into cheers and applause.

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The small vessel sailed down the Seine River, of Pairs. Its deck lite by the stars and a few strands of light, basking the only two passengers in its glow. They were scraped, bruised, battered and wearing torn and tattered clothes. Fitz’s formal wear filthy, Jemma’s simple green dress in shreds. But neither one seemed to mind. A waltz played from a record player, the slightly lively tune causing Fitz to pick Jemma up in his arms, spinning the pair around and eliciting a cry of delight from her. Hand holding onto his neck tightly to pull him down into her embrace. 

He happily accepted the gesture, spinning her a few more times, before setting her down to deepen the kiss, arms slipping to her waist and pulling her tightly against him. Jemma pulled away resting her forehead against his and simply gazed into his eyes. 

“You know,” He said playfully dropping a kiss to the tip of her nose. “By marrying me, you are in fact a Princess now…technically Queen as I am the only living heir to the throne.”

“Is that so,” she said mischievously nuzzling into his neck. 

Fitz just hummed accent “Just because I didn’t’ take the crown doesn’t mean I give up my families wealth or land. Uncle Coulson was so kind as to sign control of those back over to me meaning we can go anywhere, do anything. So I must ask, what is it that her royal highness desires?” he asked beginning to Waltz with her again. 

“Shall we travel the world?”

“Take an apartment in the city”

“See what the University says about accepting you know that you are royalty?”

“Or should we simply move into the Royal Library you love so much?”

Jemma just smiled, grabbing him by his tunic and pulling his lips to hers once more. “Perthshire,” she whispered without any hesitation as she pulled away. “Just you and me in a quaint cottage seeing what we can do about building back up the Royal Bloodline.”

His face lit up with a smile, pulling her tighter to him, he let her go once and was never going to again.

The End


End file.
